


Under the weather

by musterings



Series: Hug Ignis Week 2019 [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-09 03:21:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20987978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musterings/pseuds/musterings
Summary: Ignis doesn't have to weather through his colds alone anymore.Written for Hug Ignis Week Day 3: Cuddles, Sick/Injury Recovery





	Under the weather

Gladio had already experienced the unimaginable pain of broken bones, the sting of the bloodied gash across his forehead and the onslaught of beatings from fellow recruits and superiors in the training halls. He bore them all with gritted teeth, shaking off the pain until he could be set back to rights with a potion, though in most cases he'd shake those off too in favour of the natural healing process. 

Which is why it astounded Ignis how the man could be so easily felled by a common virus. 

"_ Iggyyyyy _," brayed Gladio, like a congested and dying behemoth.

"Yes?" said Ignis, re-entering their bedroom for the umpteenth time. He had been in and out, bringing him steaming bowls of soup—or noodles when he was being especially dramatic—checking his temperature or replacing the cold compress on his forehead. He pinched the bridge of his nose with a resigned sigh. Gladio hadn’t had the upbringing that Ignis did. Back before they moved in together, Gladio would have probably been accustomed to someone waiting on him on hand foot in moments like these. 

"Did you need more water?" 

"No," Gladio sniffed, the heavy rattle of the thick mucus lodged in his nasal passages making Ignis wince from the doorway, "I'm lonely." 

“And what do you propose I should do?” asked Ignis, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. 

His heart would have weight heavy with guilt from his growing frustration of having to care for Gladio over the past few hours since he had left the Citadel early, but the once great Shield made quite the sorry sight. With his comforter pulled up right to his chin, a cold compress on his forehead, and his nose glowing bright red against a pallid face, Ignis could not help but feel endeared rather than sympathetic.

“Come stay with me, you’re so far away,” he whined, “Bring your laptop here.”

“The screen glow might make it hard for you to sleep,” Ignis lifted up Gladio’s compress, pressing a hand against his forehead to check for a fever. That could be the only reason for his ramblings, “Let me finish my work and I’ll come join you.”

Gladio closed his eyes under the touch of Ignis’s hand, and for a moment he looked serene. Then his brow furrowed and his lips, those full lips that had their ways to make Ignis come undone time and time again, drew tight into a petulant pout.

“How long’s that gonna take?” he asked.

“Half an hour, an hour tops.”

“Can’t wait that long. Just bring it over, I don’t care about the screen, I’ll watch you work.”

“Don’t complain to me when the screen triggers your migraines,” said Ignis, his grin obvious now as he laughed. Obvious because Gladio shot him a disapproving glare as Ignis ducked out of their bedroom to collect his laptop and his briefcase from the living room.

“You won’t be laughing when you come back and you find that I’ve _ died _,” Gladio called out.

“No one’s ever died of loneliness Gladiolus,” Ignis smoothly responded once he had returned with his things. He slipped under the comforter from where Gladio had folded the corner back, and placed it over his lap and sat up against their soft and downy pillows.

Gladio wriggled over from his side of the bed, pushing himself up higher on the pillows so could tip his head to one side against Ignis’s shoulder.

“Rabbits,” mumbled Gladio.

“Hmm?” said Ignis, continuing to type on his laptop.

“Rabbits can die of loneliness.” 

“You’re a bit big for a rabbit,” hummed Ignis.

“They die because they’re stressed because their rabbit partners have left ‘em.”

“Is it because these rabbits were insufferable when sick?” 

“Oh _ ha-ha _,” Gladio perched his chin on his shoulder, overlooking his screen, watching as Ignis continued to type. Ignis snuck him a sidewards glance. Gladio’s eyes had already begun to narrow. 

Ignis saved his document, and begun closing his document windows, and opened up a browser instead.

“You finished work?” said Gladio, his voice suddenly chipper.

“No,” Ignis logged in to his streaming service, and the page loaded up various movie thumbnails, “But I figured since you’ve already distracted me, we can do something both of us can enjoy.”

From the corner of his eye, a tired smile was visible on Gladio’s face, and that was worth Ignis having to go back to his work later in the evening alone.

“How long do you think I have to pass on training for?” asked Gladio, midway through. They had chosen a teen romance, where the couple strike up the facsimile of a relationship to please various stakeholders in their lives. _ It’s the fake dating trope Iggy, _ Gladio had mumbled.

“A week, I think is what your doctor said,” said Ignis.

Gladio let out an indignant huff, “That’s way too long.”

“Better than exacerbating it. Your body needs to recover.”

“I can feel myself shrinking.”

“You have plenty of muscles to last you years, love," said Ignis, without even looking at him. 

"Do you think my butt will shrink?" 

"I highly doubt it." 

Gladio snaked an arm behind Ignis's waist. He was warm. Ignis made a note to check his temperature once they wrapped their film up.

"Would you leave me if I lost all my muscles?" 

"You won't."

"But if I did?" Gladio snapped his mouth shut, then opened it again before Ignis could respond, "You'd probably find someone new." 

"I doubt anyone could hold a candle to you," drawled Ignis. Stoking his ego always helped. 

As they continued to watch the movie, Gladio began to slump lower, settling his head against Ignis’s chest. Ignis idly threaded his fingers through Gladio’s tangled and sweat damp hair, watching from the corner of his eyes how Gladio’s eyelids grew heavy. 

"If my muscles shrink and you left me for someone else,” mumbled Gladio, “I wouldn't mind if you went for Cor." 

A sharp laugh escaped through Ignis's nose. 

"Why Cor?" he asked. 

"He's got a lot of muscles, and his butt looks okay I guess. I know you only love me for my butt. And he'd—" 

Ignis waited for Gladio to continue, an amused smile on his face. But when Gladio made no further sound, Ignis glanced down to the head lolling on his shoulder. Gladio’s head had slumped backwards, his mess of hair a crown around his sleeping face, his mouth hanging open and his breathing heavy and rattled from his congested nose.

Snapping his laptop shut, Ignis placed it in the bedside table and rose out of bed to switch off their bedroom lights. The thermometer confirmed that Gladiolus was once again running a fever. He picked up the small towel he used for Gladio’s compress, and ran it under cold water in the bathroom sink, and slipped back under the covers to side beside his sleeping lover. Before placing the newly rinsed compress back on Gladio’s forehead, Ignis pressed a kiss to Gladio's damp forehead, and laid back in bed to sleep.

***

Ignis never needed to seek out Cor’s companionship, for Gladiolus recovered, his cold resolving itself within the week, and with no sign of muscle shrinkage. His training load was minimised, but his booming voice was once again part of the Citadel's hustle and bustle. 

The same could not be said for Ignis. 

Arising at five had not come easy as it always did come Monday morning, his head tight with the pressure of his headache, and his nose ran with thick mucus. Truth be told, Ignis had shown signs that an illness was on the horizon last week: an itch in his throat, successive sneezes, and sudden lethargy come four pm. But he attributed it all to his daily exhaustion, added to the fact that he was looking after Gladio as well. 

Wednesday was when his cold took the turn for the worst, and Ignis had no choice but to call in sick. There would be no getting work done in his state, his migraine preventing him from concentrating on anything for more than a minute. 

Gladio was sympathetic. 

Ignis was accustomed to living alone, and his experience weathering his illnesses alone was extensive. His medicine cabinet was always stocked with over the counter medication to relieve the symptoms, and his pantry was home to cans of instant coup that lined the back of his shelves. It wasn't preferable, but it was convenient when his condition prevented him from doing anything more than opening a can and shaking it empty over a stove. 

But without Ignis even needing to ask, Gladio had lined up Ignis's medicine, painkillers, lozenges and supplements, as well a large water bottle along one of the bedsite tables alongside his glasses. Anyone would think the man was locking him up in a bunker. Though he didn't have the time to prepare the slow cooked soups with its tender meat belting off the bone, Gladio had his own family recipes to consult, and had left Ignis with a small and simple pot of chicken soup in the slow cooker, keeping it warm for him should he have the strength to get up and feed himself. 

After Gladio had left their shared apartment, making a note to tell Ignis that he could call him whenever he needed, Ignis slept through most of the morning, waking up periodically when a particularly harsh headache came on or when a coughing fit shocked him asleep. 

Just as he had handled his colds before, he would arise, pop his painkillers or lozenges, and then sit in the silence of their bedroom as he waited for his discomfort to dissipate. The silence rang in his ears. It had never felt like this before. He watched a documentary, the narrator's voice filling the silence, until it lulled him to sleep. 

"Hey Iggy," said a soft voice an hour or so later, its tone careful and tentative. 

"Prompto?" Ignis squinted at the sliver of light through the crack of his open door. He could only see the faint outline of Prompto's hair. 

"Yeah, how're you feeling buddy?" 

"Like hell," grumbled Ignis, hiking the covers up to his shoulders, "What're you doing here? How did you get in?" 

A ring of keys jangled on a finger Prompto raised in front of him, "Asked the big guy for his. He won't be done with Noct for a while so I told him I can come over and see if you're okay."

Ignis frowned. 

"You didn't have to do that." 

"I just finished my shift and it was on the way, so I thought I’d stop by. I brought some uni assignments with me so I can wait up ‘til Gladio comes home. Did you need anything?" 

Ignis closed his eyes briefly. He didn't really _ need _ anything from Prompto. Just as he didn't really need Gladio to do anything for him that he could do himself. 

But the thought that Prompto went straight here right after his part-time job because he knew his friend would be alone for hours more, was enough to melt his pride.

"Could you bring me a bowl of soup? Gladio left it to warm in the slow cooker." 

"I'd love to!" said Prompto. Placing the keys on Ignis's side table, he walked off, and Ignis noted with pleasant surprise how Prompto's steps were light and faint, and not the energy filled bounce he used as a method of travel.

Ignis almost fell asleep before the door creaked open again. Switching on his bedside lamp, the warm glow more tolerable on his headache addled brain than the main light, Prompto laid the tray holding Ignis soup down on his lap, and a glass of water on the bedside table. 

"Comfy?" he asked. 

"Yes," Before Prompto could leave, Ignis added, "And thank you Prompto." 

"It's nothing," Prompto rubbed the back of his neck with a smile, "You'd do the same for us! I'll be back to take your bowl back when you're done, just leave it here on the table."

The soup was warm as it travelled down his throat, and it was soothing, the heat clearing his sinuses. By the time he finished the bowl, his full stomach and his head weighed heavy, and he laid his head back down on the pillow and fell back asleep. 

He wasn't sure how many hours had passed when he woke up again, but this time to a hand pressing down on his forehead. It pushed his hair back, before a cool wet towel replaced it. 

"Hey Iggy," rumbled Gladio's voice from above him in the darkness. The springs of his mattress sank as Gladio sat beside him on the bed, his large silhouette illuminated by the hallway light. Gladio’s hand was cool in his, his thumb rubbing over the back of Ignis’s fingers. "How're you feeling?” 

The tray with his empty bowl had been taken away, like Prompto promised, and on its spot on the side table was a folder. At some point, he must have come back to turn the light off when Ignis had fallen asleep. From down the hallway he could hear faint conversation from the living room, and the sounds of simulated shooting from the TV.

"Better than this morning. I’ve weathered through the worst of it I think. Prompto’s been a great help.” Ignis twisted around to cough into his elbow, and laid back into his pillows. 

“Yeah, he was the one who offered too. Noct’s in the living room with him now,” Gladio gestured at the folder on the table with his chin, “Noct brought you some of the notes he wrote up from all the meetings you missed.”

“Noctis should proceed with caution. I could get used to this,” Ignis smiled to himself, then glanced up with Gladio, hoping that the hallway light was enough for him to see, “You’ve been a tremendous help too.”

“It’s only fair since this is probably my cold you caught,” said Gladio with an embarrassed smile, “And you put up with all my bullshit.”

“Could be a different strain.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I’m not whining half as much,” Ignis chuckled when Gladio pinched his arm in retaliation, then winced at the soreness in his throat, “I said that in jest, but if it is a different strain, it’s best you stayed away. I’d hate for you to catch it again.

“Classic Iggy. Even when you’re holed up in bed you’re still thinking about others.”

“Or maybe I don’t want to go through the hell that was being your caregiver was again?”

Gladio’s hand squeezed his, and he leant down to give Ignis a kiss on the cheek. 

“Tough luck Iggy, you’re stuck with me for life.”

Iggy felt his heart stir, and he held Gladio’s hand against his lips.

“Like rabbits?” asked Ignis.

Gladio’s laugh was warm through the chill in their room, “Yep, exactly like rabbits,” he lightly kissed Ignis’s lips next, “It’s not the only thing we do like rabbits—”

“You may leave now Gladiolus,” Ignis commanded.

“Okay, okay,” said Gladio, still chucking at his own joke, “We’re all in the living room if you need anything.” 

The door creaked shut behind him, and Ignis was left in the darkness, and the thick jumper he had pilfered from Gladio’s wardrobe was no deterrence to the chill in his skin. He could still hear his friends outside through the door, Gladio’s deep voice joining Prompto and Noctis’s inane chatter. The yellow glow of the hallway light snuck in through the crack of the bottom of the door, as if it was guiding Ignis to the warmth he sought beyond it.

This must have been what Gladio felt. Before they had moved in together, he would have spent his sick days—not just with a butler who would’ve waited on him, and Jared could maybe be blamed for Gladio’s neediness—but also with Iris, who would have watched those cheesy movies with him, and with his father who would have cracked his door open late at night to check if his fever had broke.

It would have been rare for Gladio to weather through it alone. 

Up until now, Ignis only ever had.

Wrapping his comforter around his shoulders, Ignis stood up from bed. He shuddered as the cool air hit his legs, bare in only a baggy pair of boxers now uncovered by his comforter. He slipped on his glasses, and trudged down the hallway, until he reached the living room, the bright light making his eyeballs pulse. Noctis and Prompto sat on the floor, their voices kept low as they tapped away on their controllers. On the couch, Gladio sat with one arm sprawled along the backrest, reading a book in his hand.

As Ignis drew nearer, Noctis paused the game. 

“Hey Specs,” he said.

“Iggy,” said Gladio, “Do you need anything?”

Ignis cleared his throat, “I wanted to join you three.”

Noctis and Prompto exchanged glances.

“Do you want us to put something on to watch?” asked Prompto.

“No,” Ignis sat down on the couch alongside Gladio, propping his head on his shoulder, “Continue as you were.”

Noctis resumed their game, and Ignis noted with appreciation when Prompto reached for the remote, and lowered the TV volume further.

Gladio’s arm held rested across his shoulders, pulling him closer against him.

“Got bored in there?” he asked Ignis.

“No,” Ignis quietly replied. He closed his eyes again, lightly grasping at Gladio’s hand to hold firmer around him, “It gets lonely in there.”

**Author's Note:**

> uuuuhuhuahuahuhua i said i wasn't gonna do one for day 3 cus my original idea went off the rails, but i've been chatting with @beefy_noods about how annoying gladio would be sick and i wanted to inject that somewhere, anywhere


End file.
